


Dread and Nightmares

by Krasimer



Series: For Many Years We've Been All Alone [7]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Backstory, Get ready for some weird shit, Sister Location, majorly au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Location</p><p>New Rules</p><p>(The story of Shane Lorie, researcher and reporter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Thought This Was Over

A dark room at the end of a hallway, a single computer sitting on a dusty desk, the screen covered in an inch of grey.

The sharp sting of static brushed it all off, exposing a black screen, letters revealing themselves slowly, one at a time, as if blinking into existence with each passing second. The air grew still, as if it were breath being held, and the computer continued to print out it's message.

(DID YOU THINK IT WAS REALLY OVER?)

A laugh echoes in the hallways, played over the sound of a music box and thunder footsteps. Something big is coming, something angry.

(WE HAVE BEEN ALONE FOR SO LONG)

The hallways are empty, as they have been for decades, the building condemned and abandoned but never torn down. The locals had never had the heart, the will, the bravery to set foot close enough to try. There had been attempts once or twice, curious would-be landowners who would come to investigate. 

They'd try to buy the land, buy the building itself and tear it down, make room for New and Improved, New and Different, anything but the history that had bled into the ground it stood on. 

(THIS PLACE IS OURS)

A familiar scent, the smell of childhood joy ruined by long hours and sweaty costumes, lingers in the air. The developers had come, the builders and the wreckers had come, but they'd all left and never returned. The rumors flew in the local population.

A bet was made every time someone New came in to change things.

How long would it take for them to run screaming into the distance? How many injuries would be reported from each group that paid money in and never bothered to try and get it back after what seemed to be nightmarish visions?

After all, the scene of several grisly child murders was definitely something to stay away from.

(HOME)

The locals would cross themselves, a sign over their chest as they passed by.

The last remaining Fredbear Diner was a curse and a plague and an omen all at once, and they would leave it in peace.

The same could not be said for anyone buying the building.


	2. From the Files of Shane Lorie -- 01

                                                                 

 

[Image: A picture of the necklace seen in photos of a female android known only as Dota, held aloft by S.L.]

 

  
(From the files of Shane Lorie)

  
The attempts at finding the history of the restaurant "Fazbear's Diner" have so far resulted in little. The restaurant leaves almost no trail behind it. Those who would be able to speak of it's origins are long since deceased, and the androids associated with it have dispersed. Maybe further research will reveal their whereabouts.

The re-opening of Fazbear's as a themed haunted house seems almost sacriligeous, given the history of the original.

The proprietor, one Harold Phett, says that it's fine. Says the he has gained the permission of the families of the deceased. This is doubtful.

Among the recovered items from the original location: Photos from a memorial wall, several of the original costumes (Pre-animatronic era), and the disembodied parts of several animatronics. Mister Phett is of the opinion that it will be fine to display these in a joking manner, play up a disasterous history for laughs and cheap thrills.

His nephew, Jaken Kotch, will be working for him at the new haunted house. They've managed to find the original building of one of the sister locations. The actual original burnt to the ground in a mysterious fire, taking the life of the founder's daughter, one Rosalia Fazio. The blaze killed her, much the same as it killed her siblings years before. Not much is known about the lives of Lucianna and Marcello Fazio. They perished in the restaurant when they were children.

The oven that caused their deaths remained in use for fifteen years.

Phett has it on display in the gift shop of his attraction, signs hanging over it saying crude things about the deaths of children. He uses it to hold plush toys.

This man is detestable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought? I had fun with this part, and I intend to have more from Shane Lorie in the fic.


	3. [Audio file from the records of Shane Lorie]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this is something enjoyable. I'm having fun.


	4. From the Files of Shane Lorie -- 02

 

[Image: Diana, one of the victims claimed by the Fazbear Murders, age nine.]

 

 

(From the files of Shane Lorie)

Something is following me.

I don't know what it is, and I don't know how it knows where I am, but something is following me. I look out the corners of my eyes and something is there, gone when I turn around fully and try to pinpoint it.

One of the murdered children was a girl named Diana. There's something odd about her photo, it looks familiar in a way that unsettles me. I don't know what it is, either. Her face seems normal, like any other sort of kid, and she looks happy enough. It should be noted that it's not the copy that was hanging in the restaurant: that got burned when the building did. Diana's face is freckled and round, and she looks like...

I keep coming back to 'Familiar', and it sounds repetetive even in my head.

Freddy Fazbear as a corporate entity still exists beyond the restaurant. The cartoons pull in a majority of the earnings.

This is despite the death of the last living Fazio, Rosalia Fazio. Her body was recovered when the building burned, genetic testing and teeth proving identity. Rumors flew at the time, some of them saying that she had set the fire herself, burning alive in the last place her father had been.

I don't know why something like that place was allowed to continue.

After all the deaths, disappearances, murders...It should have been shut down.

Most of these entries are entirely unprofessional, but I don't give a damn. This is my private journal, and no one else needs to be reading it. Something is following me, and all I really know is that none of what is happening should be happening.

Fuck, I'm being confusing even to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this story so far.


	5. From The Files Of Shane Lorie -- 03

[Image: A google maps search result for the now defunct Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.]

 

(From the files of Shane Lorie)

I feel like I'm going insane.

I put the necklace on today. The key Dota wore, the one that is supposed to have been Diana's. It feels comfortable, familiar around my neck, and it scares me that it feels so good to have it with me. I don't want to feel this way, I don't want there to be a familiarity in the way a dead girl's necklace sits on my neck.

I don't even know why I put it on.

It was sitting on the desk in front of me and my hands grabbed it without any input from me. There's something about her that feels comfortable. She feels like someone I have known all my life and I would give almost anything to feel normal again.

Maybe there's something to all of the paranormal research I keep running into in connection to this place. Maybe I'm just going insane, maybe...Maybe maybe maybe maybe. Too many possibilities, not enough answers.

The story of Diana, the little girl, and Dota, the animatronic that wore her necklace is one I feel a strange connection to. Animatronic otter, silly enough as it is. A little girl? One who died over thirty years ago? I'm a woman in my...

Do you ever have trouble remembering things?

It has been happening increasingly lately.

 

 


	6. You Can't Wake From This Dream

"What's your name?"

"Shane Lorie."

"Middle name?"

"...I don't have to tell you that."

With a sigh, the man asking the questions snapped the folder he held shut and settled it on the desk. "You were found on private property, Miss Lorie. We have every right to press charges against you. Would you mind telling us why you were here?”

“I’m a reporter,” Shane stared him down. “Mister Kotch, you are aware that the oven used in your gift shop was the item that brought death to the children of the original owner of the restaurant your uncle has based his business on?” she laughed. “You probably are. Not even that is enough to deter you, is it? I am a reporter, Mister Kotch. It is my job to let the world outside know the truth when you’ve decided to ignore the crimes in the history of the story you’re telling and make a mockery of them. The oven that now holds plush versions of the animatronics used back then, the ones that look like children? The animatronics those are based on were based on the children who died in that oven.”

Kotch’s face went pale and he blinked a couple of times. “…What?”

“Like I said, Mister Kotch.” Shane leaned forward, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. “It is my job to let the world know the truth.”

She stood up and he did the same, holding out an arm in front of her. “Please,” he said quietly. “What else hasn’t my uncle told me?”

Shane paused, halfway through putting her bag back on. With a small smile, she let it drop onto her shoulders. “A lot of things, I suspect.” She looked at the office door. “Give me a tour and I’ll tell you the history of everything in your building.”

“Deal,” he came around his desk and swallowed nervously. “Something about you looks familiar,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced. My name is Jaken Kotch,” he held out a hand to her. “And I know you’re Shane Lorie.” He sighed, then winced a little. Her handshake was firm and a little too tight. “I think my uncle is gone for the day. We can start in the gift shop. Please, show me anything else that comes across as…Unpleasant.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Shane grinned at him before she led the way out of his office.


	7. Calling Me (Home)

She had woken up knowing almost nothing.

Her memory had been shot, but she had remembered the name Diana. She had woken up in an alley, a necklace with a skeleton key on it on the ground by her head. Flashes of memory, like fragments of static, glitches in the system, falling snow obliterated by the wet ground. Nothing stuck and she was shivering without actually being cold.

But she had woken up.

That was something, at least. When she had woken up, she’d had nothing on her besides a bag with some notebooks in it and the clothing she had been wearing. Wandering for hours, she had finally managed to find a place to stay for the night – a shelter, where they had asked few questions for even fewer answers.

For whatever reason, she had given her name as Shane Lorie. It had just sounded nice, she thought.

 

Shane Lorie set herself up as a freelance reporter.

The job was decent, she set her own hours, and the newspaper she submitted to paid her well for each story she wrote.

It took two months to get settled into her new life.

 

Jaken Kotch, it turned out, had not actually known about the history of the place his uncle had put together.

For some reason, the pair of them reminded Shane of someone she had once known. Or maybe it was someone she had once heard about. Or read about. She did like reading, it was possible.

But, once she had finished telling him about the history of the pieces his uncle used in the horror-show he had put together, Shane had encouraged Jaken to get away from his uncle. The man scared him, she could see that, and if he reached out and just asked someone for help, he could get away before something awful happened.

Jaken had smiled, given her his number, then let her out of the building before driving off.

When Shane called him, later, he told her that he was several states away. He had earned enough at a previous job that he could run from his uncle. She had just been the push he’d needed. “Thank you, Shane,” he said into the phone. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

(She hadn’t known it, then, but his uncle had been obsessed with the murders at the original restaurant and had been planning on re-enacting them, with himself in the part of Orsani and Jaken in the role of Jeremy Fitzgerald.)

 

Everything wound down to this, she thought.

The woman standing in front of her was in her forties, if she had to guess. “Dota?” she said quietly. “It’s me, it’s Michelle,” her hands were raised, a sign of peace. “We’ve been looking for you for _months_. Where have you been this entire time?”

Shane frowned, stepping a little further back. “I think you have the wrong person, ma’am.”

Michelle seemed to tremble for a moment. “I don’t think I do,” she stayed in one spot but leaned forward a little, like she wanted to step closer. “My name is Michelle Kerry-Bradect,” she introduced herself. “I’m a mechanic and an engineer, and I build android bodies so that they don’t have to live in old ones that are falling apart, not anymore.”

“Really, truly,” Shane shook her head. “Wrong person.”

“Okay,” Michelle shot out an arm. It did not block Shane’s way out of the situation, but it did confuse her. Why was she so desperate? “But…Can I show you something? If I am wrong, nothing happens. If I am wrong, I will _leave_ and you will never see me again.”

“…Okay.”

Michelle reached forward, every movement slow and cautious, like she was afraid of scaring Shane off. “This,” she took Shane’s wrist in her hand and turned her, pushing up her sleeve to expose what Shane thought was a scar. “This is one of the few allowances I had to make when building the bodies of those I rescued. A way to access the wires. Everything else is nice and tucked in, doesn’t have to be so exposed, but this panel had to be put a little closer to the surface.”

“Panel?” Shane looked at the scar and frowned. “It’s a scar.”

“No,” Michelle pressed her fingertips into the skin of Shane’s upper arm and held her breath when something released and it popped open. “It’s not a scar. It’s an access panel I built in.”

Shane felt her jaw drop open as she stared at the little panel.

“Come home,” Michelle urged gently. “We can figure out what is happening later.”

After a moment, Shane nodded.

They went.

 

“If I have been missing, how come no one came to find me?”

 

The memories flicker back in when Michelle does a system repair. The moment of the attack is a muddled thing, static and errors and impossible to fix, but what they do see is horrifying enough that the loss of it seems like a blessing.

Artem welcomes her into their home and Riley hugs her tightly.

Shane – She is Dota, not Shane Lorie – hugs back just as tightly, remembering horrors but still feeling everything settle back into place.

Diana was a little girl she had sworn to protect.

Irasa and Reyna had watched over her while Michelle ran off to help Mike and Foxy – Laughlin – to end another horror story somewhere else. Others were trapped like they all had been, once. Dota smiled at Artem and then laughed when they hugged her as well.

Artem had never been a hug sort of person. It seemed that damage to an old friend was a good enough reason to bestow that particular physical affection.

 

“Oh, my darling,” Michelle had turned to her, her eyes wide and sad, tears building up in the corners. “Do you honestly think we ever stopped looking?”

 

Dota still wrote under the pen name of Shane Lorie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is a wrap, folks. The final chapter of this series will be out soon -- On the third year anniversary of the series. We end how we began: On Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> OHKAY I WAS DONE
> 
> I THOUGHT I WAS DONE
> 
> BUT I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THERE BEING MORE THAN ONE LOCATION AND I CALLED IT TWO YEARS AGO WHEN I FIRST MADE THIS STORY. 
> 
> So buckle in, little kiddies, and we'll cover the story of the last three games. The series thus far has been the first two. This is gonna be 3, 4, and Sister Location. And I aim to misbehave.  
> The intent behind this is true horror. Last time there was fluff, and I don't think there's going to be much (If any) in this story. We'll figure out what happened as we go along.


End file.
